Harry Potter and the New Order
by Rupert Hayes
Summary: The staff at Hogwarts successfully petition to reintroduce some of the old fashioned methods of dealing with misbehaviour by pupils at the school and this sparks a number of changes in the school. Follows on from Harry Potter and the Old Wives Tale
1. Chapter 1

The Headmaster sat down at the head of the table, immediately after the guest took his seat at the foot of it. He waved his wand and refreshments appeared in front of each of the six at the table. At the head of the table, as indicated, sat Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. To his right sat Professor Minerva McGonnagall, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, while to his left was Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin. Next to McGonnagall was Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, and next to Snape was Professor Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw. The five most senior members of the schools staff, and those with personal responsibility for the welfare of the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All five looked expectantly at their guest who looked back at them with a steady expression.

"Well, Barty, perhaps you'd better explain to us why you asked me to call this meeting?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"Of course." Bartemius Crouch, Senior, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic was used to raising uncomfortable issues with very powerful people, and he was good at it. But facing Professor Dumbledore was considerably more discomforting than facing foreign Ministers of Magic. He knew that Dumbledore was not going to like what he was going to hear. But he also knew that the concerns of the Ministry were valid and needed to be addressed. "I won't mince words, Albus. The Ministry has received a number of complaints about the way Hogwarts is being run, and it's getting to the stage that the Minister cannot continue to ignore them. The Minister has asked me, as I have had to come up here, anyway to organise the Triwizard Tournament, to raise these issues with you, and your senior staff, to see if we can't work something out short of..."

"Short of what?" said Professor McGonnagall after Crouch trailed off.

"There are some who think an inquisition should be held into the running of Hogwarts. A full inquiry."

Professor Dumbledore spoke. "We have nothing to hide."

"Of course not, but the person they want to appoint to do it – she would be looking for things that aren't hidden. Perhaps things that aren't there. And she'd find them."

Snape leaned forward. "Who, precisely, are we talking about?"

"Umbridge. Dolores Umbridge. I know... it's hard to imagine somebody more unsuitable but she... has an influence over the Minister, probably one that is nearly as strong as my own and it's getting stronger. And if she is allowed into Hogwarts to examine it – well, it will be – and I hope you will forgive the phrase – nothing short of a witch hunt. Now I think I can stave it off, but only if I can go back to the Minister with some positive changes to report."

Professor Sprout smiled. "Positive changes? It sounds to me like you think there are some things that could be improved here."

"Well... quite. Look, I think you are all doing a wonderful job, but that doesn't mean that there might not be some room for improvement."

"What are the problems, Barty?" asked the Headmaster.

"The biggest complaint – raised by the Governors, but I assure you it's not just the Governors who have concerns – relate to some of those you have appointed as staff recently."

"And who would they be?"

"You know very well who – Remus Lupin and now, Rubeus Hagrid. A werewolf and a half giant, Albus. Parents have reason to be concerned. Oh, you know they are both safe enough – I know both of them myself and I have no doubts. But it is enough to cause concern."

Professor Dumbledore looked at his senior staff. And all nodded after a moment. The Headmaster looked at the Ministry official.

"Are you telling me the Ministry would interfere with who I employ at this school?"

"We would rather not do so, but there is talk of Education Decrees to do just that. In fact, they've been drafted."

"Well, when such Decrees are promulgated, I will, of course, comply with them. But until they are, I will continue to employ who I wish."

"I have to give the Minister something, Dumbledore."

"What do you suggest?"

Mr Crouch frowned. "All right. Well, the only other issue I can think of that would allow me to return to the Minister with a strong enough recommendation for no changes to be forced onto the school is the old chestnut. The discipline of the school. Now, Professors, I don't want to let any cats out of the bag, but I have to say some concerns about this have been raised from within the school, as well as from outside it. I'm not sure if anybody here would like to..."

Professor Snape spoke. "It's all right, Crouch. The Headmaster is fully aware of my views on this matter, and I have informed him of my intention to write to the Ministry when I have done so. I would never go against his express wishes, but he has never tried to stop me expressing my views."

"Well, perhaps, you could outline them, Severus."

"With pleasure. We all know that Hogwarts used to be a much more... disciplined environment. It is a very different school in many ways from the one I attended as a boy. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Well... perhaps both fortunately and unfortunately. I cannot deny that the elimination of the most severe punishments was probably a good thing. I am younger than the rest of you, those things were gone by my time here. But I believe that perhaps the school went too far... leaving us only with detentions and the points system. We can try and make detentions... interesting, but there are limits."

"You mean, I went too far?" said the Headmaster. "It was my decision."

"A lot of people think you did go too far, Professor. A lot of parents especially," said Crouch.

"Including yourself?"

Mr Crouch's face went cold. "I cannot deny that I sometimes wonder if my son would have turned out differently if... I'm not trying to blame the school for my failures, Dumbledore, but we send our children to this school for nine months of the year. We want it to make sure they behave."

"He does have a point, Albus." McGonnagall spoke. "I certainly agree that you were right to get rid of the most extreme punishments – we have no need to be hanging students from chains, or flogging them with horsewhips. But – well, we don't even have the disciplinary tools available to us that exist in some Muggle schools. And there have been times, I've been at a loss to find ways of dealing with some of my House."

Professor Sprout said, "Let me guess – the Weasley twins?"

"Those two especially – I had a letter from their mother, Molly. She's very disappointed with the fact they only gained three O.W.L.S. each last year and she has a right to be – they're both gifted young Wizards. But I don't honestly see what else I could have done within the framework you've imposed on the school, Albus. I do understand you want the school to be as pleasant a place as possible for the pupils – but we are doing them no favours if we don't succeed in making sure they leave here as well trained and ready as possible. The world outside isn't always a pleasant place. Oh, and incidentally, she also told me something else that's a little disturbing in terms of student behaviour – but I'll raise that at another time."

"So you would support Severus in asking for a change to my policy?" asked the Headmaster.

"Yes, Headmaster, I would."

"So I have two of my four Heads of Houses asking for this change. Pomona, Filius, do you have anything to say on it."

Professor Flitwick had been silent for most of the meeting listening intently. He took a sip of his cherry soda before delivering his measured opinion.

"Yes, Albus, I do. And I have to say that I am, in favour – provided we are just talking about a partial change, and not all the way back to the bad old days. I find detentions difficult in Ravenclaw – most of the students like schoolwork, and using it as a punishment defeats the purpose. But if I use imaginative detentions as Severus would call them, I take them away from their studies and that is an odd thing for a teacher to do. I think quick punishments have their virtues."

Professor Sprout was the last to give her views. "I'm not particularly in favour, but I'm also not particularly opposed. Minerva is right in saying we don't even have the same punishments as some Muggle schools – young Finch-Fletchley has told me as much – that I couldn't punish him as severely as his prep school Headmaster had. Losing house points don't affect Hufflepuff as much as other houses – we don't expect to win the House Cup, so there's less worry about losing points."

Professor Dumbledore considered and spoke, "I cannot ignore the views of my staff, Barty, so you can report a change to the Minister. I will cancel my last order on this issue so staff will be more free to use physical forms of chastisement. We will not be reintroducing horsewhipping, or hanging students from chains. Measures such as using transfiguration as a punishment will remain out of the question. But staff will have the discretion to use a reasonable level of corporal punishment if they wish. And, as Headmaster, I will support them in that."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I will pass on that message to the Minister."

"With my respects."

The meeting turned to other matters. None of which would be regarded by the students as more momentous than this first one. The students were not officially informed of the change. They were allowed to find out about it as time unfolded. And most found out quite quickly.

Potions class was always unpopular with the Gryffindor Fourth Year students. Firstly, they had their lesson with the Slytherins. Secondly, it was taught by Snape who was generally believe to favour his own House. It was a lesson to be endured, not enjoyed.

The student with the most to endure was normally Neville Longbottom. Poor Neville wasn't particularly academic to begin with, but his problems were made much worse by the fact that Snape made him incredibly nervous. To be blunt, Snape frightened him with his unrestrained sarcasm at any student's failures. And this made Neville even more likely to fail.

Snape prowled around the classroom as the students mixed their potions. And it seemed to Neville almost as if Snape was lurking behind him willing him to fail. Whether this was truth or paranoia, the end result was that Neville became confused and added the badger bile too early. There was an acrid smell in the air, as the mixture bubbled, and then the cauldron it was contained in began to melt.

"Again, Longbottom? How many cauldrons is that, you have destroyed in my class now?"

Neville cringed, "Six, Professor."

"Six." The world slithered off Snape's tongue. "Six cauldrons. Six of the best pewter cauldrons that money can buy. Six of the best... how very appropriate. Come to the front of the room, come to my desk, Longbottom."

Neville slowly walked to the front of the room, everybody's eyes on him. He could not imagine a worse fate than being publically admonished in front of his class mates by Professor Snape.

Snape went to his desk. Atop it was a long thin box bound in green leather hinged on one side with silver hinges and secured on the other with two silver clasps. Nobody in the class had noticed it until now, it had never been there before. He now placed his hand on it, almost stroking it.

"I have tried, Longbottom. I have tried so many things with you. No matter how clear the instructions you still make the same mistakes. I have reprimanded you. With no effect. I have given you extra work. With no effect. I have given you detentions. With no effect. But now – now, fortunately for both of us, I have something new at my disposal. Perhaps this will work where nothing else has."

He placed his hands on the clasps, and in the silent classroom, a double click was heard as they were opened. Everybody's eyes were fixed watching as Snape reached into one end of the open case and drew out a thin but savage looking rod.

The Professor held it up for all to see. "Thirty six inches long. Rattan. Very, very whippy. Bend over, Longbottom, and touch your toes."

Neville seemed frozen in place, as if he'd been struck by a _Petrificus Totalus_.

"I said, bend over, Longbottom."

Harry stood up. "You can't do this!"

Snape turned on him, "Sir! And I most certainly can, Potter."

Hermione spoke. "Sir, Professor Dumbledore orders..."

"Have been changed, Miss Granger. Now sit down, Potter, before you get the same as Longbottom."

Harry sat down, reluctantly. He leaned over towards Hermione.

"Can he do this?"

"I don't know. Professor Dumbledore banned it, but if he has lifted the ban, then I suppose he can." Hermione began rummaging in her bag, and pulled out a large book and began leafing through it.

At the front of the room, Professor Snape had turned his attention back to Neville. "For the last time, Longbottom, bend over. There are worse punishments for refusing to accept this one."

Neville was able to move again. He had been temporarily paralysed with fear, but then he had decided that this punishment was probably easier to deal with than Snape's normal sarcasm. And he certainly didn't want to make it any worse. He slowly bent over and touched his toes.

Snape bent down as well to take the hem of Neville's robes. He lifted them and placed the back of the robes, folded on Neville's back, exposing the seat of his trousers to the cane he held in his hands. He lined up the cane across the centre of Longbottom's bottom, tapped once, raised it back and swung it in with force.

Neville gave a strangled yelp and straightened up.

"Back down, Longbottom. That one doesn't count. So you have another six to go. Everytime you stand up, I will not count the stroke. The rest of you should bear that in mind as well."

Neville bent back over, and Snape readjusted his robe. Took aim again, and delivered a second stroke – or redelivered the first depending on how you looked at it. Neville yelped again, but stayed down. Snape waited to see if he would rise, and seemed disappointed when he did not. He took aim and again delivered a stinging slash of the cane. Neville shook and cried out but stayed down. Snape was in his stride now, and seemed to be swinging harder and faster than before. He had described the cane accurately – it was very whippy and it made a sibilant hiss as it swept through the air. Neville shrieked and stood up again. His hands gripped his bottom.

"That one doesn't count, Longbottom. Four more to go. Bend over again."

Neville shook his head.

"If you don't bend over, Longbottom, I will send you to the Headmaster. And he has said he will support this, and he has worse punishments than this to inflict."

Hermione raised her hand. "Professor Snape?!"

"What is it, Miss Granger."

"What rules are you applying to this punishment? What order did Professor Dumbledore lift?"

"Are you questioning me, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir. I have here my copy of _Hogwarts, A History _and it contains quite a bit of discussion about the regulations the Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts have set with regards to punishments over the years. And teachers have to follow the rules or they can get into a lot of trouble. So it matters as to what rules Professor Dumbledore has set."

Snape looked concerned. "I'm not sure of the precise rules. The Headmaster said he was lifting his last order."

"Then you have to follow the rules that were in place before that last order! And those rules don't let you give a student more than six strokes of a cane without the written permission of the Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster – or Deputy Headmistress in this case! – or their Head of House."

Snape's voice was very, very cool. "Do you have the rules there?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Bring them out. You can stand up for a moment, Longbottom."

Hermione pointed to the book. "Here, Sir."

Professor Snape read the rules. "You are... correct, Miss Granger. I cannot give Longbottom more than six strokes without the permission of Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonnagall... however... I notice that there are other ways I can increase this punishment. Well, let us follow the rules, then. Sit down, Miss Granger. As for you, Longbottom, unfasten your trousers."

"What?!" Neville's tear streaked face went white.

"I have given you four strokes. I can only give you two more. But I don't have to leave you the protection of trousers."

"But..."

"Unfasten your trousers, or your underpants will come down as well. Some of the girls might find that entertaining, and we all might find it amusing."

Neville's hands went to his belt. He undid his belt, and then his trousers. Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror. Oh gosh – he hadn't put on those...

He had. Neville's teddy bear underpants were exposed for the entire class to see. He'd been teased for these in the dormitory before, but he'd managed to explain them away as having been purchased by his grandmother who didn't consider such things as a boys credibility at all. Now everybody saw them, and Draco Malfoy gave a loud laugh.

"Oh Longbottom, how do you _bear_ the shame..."

And was shocked as Professor Snape whirled to face him, his robes flaring out like the wings of a bat. "Malfoy, unless you want to find yourself on display in the same way, you will be SILENT!"

The class was shocked into silence, Malfoy had not been the only one stirred to laughter. But for Snape to shout at Malfoy? For Snape to publically tell off Draco Malfoy – to defend Neville Longbottom. It was the most shocking thing in a morning full of shocks.

"Now bend over, Longbottom. Let's get this over with."

Neville bent over and Snape delivered the last two strokes, very hard, and very fast.

"Get your trousers up, and get back to your place, Longbottom." Snape dropped the cane back into his case as if it had suddenly become too hot to handle and snapped it shut.


	2. Chapter 2

The news spread about the school like wildfire. Professor Snape had given Neville Longbottom the cane and had claimed that he was acting within the rules of the school authorised by Professor Dumbledore. A second story emerged of Professor Vector telling her Seventh Year class that if they failed to do their homework, she would have no hesitation in using a cane on them, which seemed some sort of confirmation. But quite a few Gryffindors wanted more confirmation and some of these sought out the best source of information they knew. A source named Hermione Granger. They found her in the library.

"Look – all I can tell you is what is in _Hogwarts: A History_, at the moment. I've come here to try and find out some more. If you really want to know what I find out, meet me after dinner in the common room."

Now Hermione stood in the centre of the Gryffindor common room which was as crowded as she'd ever seen it. She'd anticipated a fairly small audience, instead nearly the entire house seemed to be present. They'd crammed themselves in all available chairs, while others perched where ever they could find a place to sit, and still others were standing. It was odd to be the centre of so much attention from so many people who wanted to hear what she had to say. She looked around the room for friendly faces and saw Harry and Ron and Ginny and the Weasley twins. There was no sign of Neville, which surprised her but she decided that perhaps it made it easier if he wasn't there. She cleared her throat and began.

"Thank you for coming. We all know why we are here. I've been doing some research to find out, first of all, whether or not it's true that Hogwarts teachers are now allowed to use corporal punishment, and second of all, if they are, what limits exist on its use.

"First of all, some history. Physical punishments have been allowed at Hogwarts throughout most of its history, including, at times, extremely severe physical punishments. It's only over the last forty years or so that things have changed and most of that change came about because of Professor Dumbledore. Until he became Headmaster, pupils could still be flogged with horsewhips and hung in chains. This isn't that long ago – some of your parents were at the school in that time. Professor Dumbledore changed the rules but even he didn't get rid of corporal punishment at first. He just put a rule in place that said that teachers were only to use those methods that were considered normal by Muggle schools. It caused quite a bit of controversy. I've been looking at old _Daily Prophets _and there were a lot of people who wanted him sacked for trying to make Hogwarts more like a Muggle school, but he stood his ground, and over the years he issued a number of orders concerning corporal punishment. The last of these was issued in 1980 and banned corporal punishment altogether.

"Today in class when he caned Neville, Professor Snape said that Professor Dumbledore had cancelled this last order. If that's right and it seems to be right, then the order before that is the ones that's now in effect. That order came only a couple of years earlier, and it sets the following rules.

_1. Class teachers and certain other authorised staff may use a reasonable level of physical chastisement to discipline students._

_2. Such chastisement may be administered with a strap, cane or similar implement, or with the teachers own hand._

_3. No more than ten strokes of a strap may be administered to a student without the written permission of the Headmaster, Deputy Headmaster or the student's Head of House._

_4. No more than six strokes of a cane may be administered to a student without the written permission of the Headmaster, Deputy Headmaster or the student's Head of House._

_5. Class teachers must administer such punishment to the palms of the hands, or a students normally clothed buttocks. _

_6. The Headmaster, the Deputy Headmaster, and Heads of Houses may administer such punishment across the underwear-clad or bare buttocks of students at their discretion._

_7. Such chastisement may be administered in private, in front of a class, or assembled house, or in front of the school as a whole, or in front of any assembly made up of students selected on whatever basis._

_8. The Headmaster may, at his discretion, impose or authorise the imposition of, more severe corporal punishments._

Hermione looked up from her notes, and cleared her throat again, before outlining the ninth and tenth regulation which had particularly engaged her attention.

_9. Heads of Houses may, at their discretion, delegate a limited power to administer physical chastisement to Prefects in their houses over students within that House._

_10. The Headmaster may, at his discretion, delegate a limited power to administer physical chastisement to the Head Boy and Head Girl over all students in the school. _

_11. Any student who refuses to accept physical chastisement is liable to expulsion from the school._

_12. Any staff member found to have misused their authority to administer physical chastisement is liable to dismissal from the staff of the school._

She looked up again – you could hear a pin drop in the silence. "Any questions?"

Ginny Weasley stood up. "So what you are saying is that Professor Snape could call me up tomorrow, make me drop my knickers, and then give me six strokes of the cane across my bare bottom in front of the entire class?"

"Only if you did something to deserve it. But, yes, I'm pretty sure he can. So can Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick."

"He'd need a stepladder," shouted out one of the Weasley twins to general amusement, lightening the tension somewhat. Hermione was relieved – some people had begun to look like they were willing to hex the messenger.

"Look, I'm just telling you the rules. I didn't make them up. Professor Dumbledore did, and if he wants to impose them on the school, I don't really see that we can do much about them. Looking at the dates, they are no different than the rules that were in place when most of your parents were here. For that matter, they're not a lot different than rules in some Muggle private schools. We already get detentions and lose points if we break rules. This is just another type of punishment. If you don't want to get it, don't break the rules."

"That's easy for you to say," called out the other Weasley twin.

"No, it's not easy for me to say. I know you think I'm a goody two shoes and maybe I am, but I've still had detentions and I've still lost house points and I suppose there's every chance that with these new rules I'll get the cane myself. I don't really like the idea. But if Professor Dumbledore has decided the school needs this then that's good enough for me."

She realised that nobody was looking at her anymore. Instead they were looking towards the entrance to the common room. Neville had entered the room.

* * *

Neville had run from the potions room as fast as he could, as soon as the lesson ended. His bottom felt like it was on fire and his face felt like it was burning as well. He could barely believe what had just happened to him and the circumstances in which it had happened.

It wasn't so much the physical pain – he'd experienced worse punishment at the hands of his Gran but the embarrassment of being punished by Snape in front of the Slytherins. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as bad if only Gryffindors had been there, or if it had been anybody but Snape.

He ducked into the first boys toilet he passed, went into a cubicle and lowered his trousers and his underpants again. He twisted his head around to look at his bottom as well as he could – there were welts across it, and bruises. No wonder it hurt.

Classes had ended for the day, thankfully. If he skipped dinner, and then crept up to his room, he could go to bed and hopefully avoid everybody. He'd have to face them sooner or later. But he wanted to put that off as long as possible. And so he stayed in hiding. He stayed there until dinner time and was tempted to leave then. He was hungry and the pain was fading, but he still didn't want to be the centre of attention. He decided to wait until near the end of dinner when most people would have already gone to their houses and he could snatch a little of whatever was left on the tables without hopefully being seen by too many people.

When the time seemed right, he put his plan into effect. He crept out of the toilet, down the staircase and towards the Great Hall. Unfortunately as he approached the door of the Hall, Draco Malfoy and his friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle came out of it.

Neville froze. Malfoy looked at him with a smile just beginning to spread across his face.

"Longbottom – you got me into trouble with Professor Snape, Longbottom. I think you need to..."

Neville turned and bolted up the stairs.

"Get him!"

He could hear Crabbe and Goyle beginning to lumber after him. He knew he was faster than them, all he need to do was keep ahead of them until he could get to safety. Malfoy was faster but he was unlikely to get too far away from his burly protectors. All he needed to do was stay in front until he could reach the safety of the Gryffindor common room but that was a long way away.

Too far. Rounding a corner he crashed into a Ravenclaw going the other way. He tumbled to the ground and before he could regain his feet, Crabbe and Goyle were upon him. They hauled him to his feet and turned him to face Malfoy. The Slytherin looked around. "Take him in there."

He found himself being dragged into a long room lined trophies on all sides. There was a table in the middle of the room and Malfoy walked towards it, with Crabbe and Goyle following bearing the struggling Neville.

"You embarassed me, Longbottom. You humiliated me, in front of my friends. Well, now we're going to do the same to you. Let's have his trousers off – and his pants. He can go up to his house without them. Everybody will be able to see what the cane did to him and a lot more besides. Hold on to him, Goyle – you get his trousers off, Crabbe."

Malfoy simply watched as Crabbe pulled off Neville's shoes, one after the other and then began to unbutton his trousers. Neville struggled, but Goyle was far too strong for him and his trousers were tugged down and off exposing the hated teddy pair underpants for all to see. Crabbe seemed reluctant to touch them and looked at Malfoy.

"Get them off!"

"STAND STILL." There was a thunderous voice coming from the doorway, a voice that echoed around the trophy room. Crabbe jumped back and Goyle let go of Neville who rolled off the table. Professor McGonagall was almost incandescent with rage as she strode across the room, her wand out. "HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU MANHANDLE ANOTHER STUDENT?" She was pointing her wand at Malfoy now who had gone as pale as a ghost and seemed to be doing his best to try and sink into the wall as a ghost would have done. Crabbe and Goyle stood silent, their eyes looking at the ground.

Professor McGonagall's voice went calm and quiet. "Longbottom, put your trousers back on, and your shoes." It rose again in volume. "You three. Not a word from you. Line up at the door." She waited as they complied and watched as Neville did up his trousers and pulled on his shoes. "All of you come with me."

With Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy in front of her, and Neville behind her, she directed the four students down stairs and towards her office. Once she got there, she opened the door and gestured for them all to enter. Once inside, she pointed at an armchair just inside the door. "Sit down, Longbottom." Then she pointed over near the fireplace. "You three, stand there."

She waited until they had obeyed – something they did rapidly.

"I have never been so disgusted in all of my time as a teacher here at Hogwarts. I am horrified at what I saw upstairs. I can barely believe it.

"I am tempted, sorely tempted, to take the three of you in front of Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape and do my best to see you expelled."

Malfoy opened his mouth, "Professor..."

"Silence!"

"But, Professor..."

"I said, silence, Malfoy. And I meant it. You will learn to obey, one way or the other."

He stared at her and she stood there staring back for more than ten seconds, before he turned his face away.

"Very well, Malfoy. You can speak."

"I'd rather you did get Professor Snape, I'd rather..."

"Think very carefully, Malfoy, before you continue. You may think you know Professor Snape, but I know him far better than you. If you think he'd save you now, you are sorely mistaken. There are some things that matter to him more than any relationship he may enjoy with your family."

Malfoy's thoughts flashed back to the classroom earlier in the day. To the moment when he had started to tease Neville about his underwear and had been surprised at the ferocity of Professor Snape's reaction. He realised that it was very possible that Professor McGonagall was right, although he couldn't work out why. He tried a different tack.

"I wasn't doing anything to Longbottom. You saw. It was Crabbe and Goyle. I was just watching."

Professor McGonagall stepped right up to him. In a voice that was very quiet, but which shuddered with barely contained fury, she spoke. "How dare you? How dare you?" She turned away from him and went to her desk. "The one who gives the orders is at least as guilty as those who carry them out. Sometimes much more so – at least they are not afraid to get their own hands dirty, there might be some trace of redemption in that." She'd opened a drawer and was rummaging around in it. It was only a moment before she found what she was looking for.

It was two feet long, brown in colour and made of leather. About as wide as a belt, about half of its length seemed to constitute a handle while the other half had been split into two tails.

"Do you know what this is?" she said, facing the three Slytherins. "Crabbe? Goyle? Malfoy?"

Malfoy's voice shook slightly. "It's a strap."

"Almost. Or rather, yes, it is, but it has another better name. It is a tawse. It is to be very precise a particularly severe example of a tawse, made for me by a master of the art, Mister John J. Dick of Lochgelly. A very fine example of Muggle craftsmanship as you are about to discover."

"You can't use that!"

"I certainly can, Malfoy."

"My father -"

"Your father is no longer a governor of this school, but while he was, on more than one occasion, he expressed a belief that Hogwarts had become too soft since his time here and pushed for the reintroduction of the more traditional forms of punishment. I suppose it is possible he would be willing to be labelled a hyprocrite to protect you from a well deserved punishment, but frankly, I doubt it. Professor Snape is not going to protect you. Your father is not going to protect you. The decision as to whether or not you should be punished is in my hands and I have no doubt about my proper duty in this case. Now be silent before you continue making things worse for yourself."

Malfoy looked as if he wanted to say some more, but Professor McGonagall gave him no chance. She pointed at Goyle with the hand holding the tawse. "You first. Hang your robe on that coatstand."

Neville spoke. "Professor, I'm still here."

"Yes, Longbottom, I haven't forgotten you. I think it's appropriate in this case that justice isn't just done but is seen to be done. You will stay where you are. Goyle. Stand in front of my desk, undo your trousers and lower them to below your knees."

Goyle obeyed without question. He was used to following orders.

"Bend over and lean across the desk. Hold onto the far side."

He complied. Professor McGonagall walked over and stood next to his left side. She laid the tawse across the very centre of the seat of his pale blue pants. Then she lifted her arm, her elbow bending it back so the tawse went behind her back, and brought it forward rapidly with a practiced motion. It landed cleanly across its target with a whipcrack sound, followed just a moment later by a gasp from Gregory Goyle. She paid no attention to the sound, and drew the tawse back in an identical motion and again swung it forward so it landed right across the middle of his bottom. The gasp was louder this time. The third stroke followed in absolutely identical fashion, and then a fourth. Goyle was no longer just gasping but almost panting with the pain but still McGonagall showed no sign she had even noticed the sounds coming from him. She lashed down with a fifth stroke and then paused. She laid the tawse right across the centre of its target and with great care drew it back before whipping it down again with far greater force than the previous five strokes.

"Stand up, Goyle... Now pull up your trousers, get your robe and go and wait by the door. Crabbe, hang your robe and come forward."

Goyle's face was pale as he walked to the door, but nowhere near as pale as Malfoy's. Crabbe took up position in front of the desk and without being asked began to undo his trousers. Professor McGonagall waited as he leaned forward.

"I like to see a pupil who accepts his punishment, Crabbe. Take a good grip." Once again she lined up the tawse across the centre of a boy's underwear clad bottom, and once again she drew back the instrument of correction before swinging it hard against its target with a loud whacking sound. And once again there was a gasp from the boy accepting his punishment. She drew back the tawse again and swung it in. Crabbe groaned at the impact, but it wasn't the only sound. From where Malfoy stood, a very quiet whimper could be heard. It was drowned out by the slashing sound of the tawse cutting through the air on its third journey towards Crabbe's backside and the groan this time was loud enough that if Malfoy made another sound it was drowned out. As the fourth stroke made its impression, Crabbe gave a groan that went on and on right through the fifth stroke. Professor McGonagall spoke. "One more to go, Crabbe, then it will be over." She took care lining it up but this time there didn't seem to be any extra strength behind it.

"Stand up, Crabbe, and pull up your trousers... get your robe and go and wait by the door. Malfoy, hang your robe on the stand and come here."

Malfoy was as white as a sheet and was standing near the fireplace biting on his thumb. He showed no sign of movement beyond a slight tremor that seemed to shudder through his body.

"Malfoy, hang your robe on the stand and come here."

Again, he failed to move. Professor McGonagall put the tawse down on her desk and walked over to the trembling boy. He didn't resist as she lifted his arm and slid one sleeve of his robe off him, then the second sleeve. As she turned to hang his robe on the coatstand, he straightened slightly and with an almost jerky motion seemed to force his legs to walk him over to a position in front of the desk. Professor McGonagall watched as he stood where he was supposed to.

"Undo your trousers Malfoy and push them down below your knees." She walked over next to him and waited while he fumbled with the buttons and finally once undone, they fell down around his ankles.

"Now, pull your pants down as well."

Draco turned his head and looked at her with an expression of horror. "What?" he gasped.

"Pull your pants down, Malfoy."

"You c-can't!"

"I can and I am. The rules of the school allow Heads of Houses to punish across the bare bottom at their discretion. I have decided that you deserve this."

"Crabbe and G-g-oyle..."

"Crabbe and Goyle did not try to pass the blame for their disgusting behaviour onto other people. I had intended to give them the same punishment I am going to give you. But you showed us that you deserved something worse than them and as there are limits to what I can give any of you, I decided they would have to receive a less severe punishment to impress on you how wrong it is to try to blame others for your misdeeds. Now pull your pants down."

"I can't."

"Then bend over and I will do it for you. One way or another, Malfoy, those pants are coming down. Tears won't stop me, Malfoy. There's nothing wrong with crying over a good belting and I'm going to give you a very good one." Malfoy had begun to cry and perhaps it was an attempt to gain some mercy or perhaps he could not help himself. But he finally stretched himself forward across the desk. Professor McGonagall put her hands into the waistband of his white underpants and drew them down all the way below his knees. Then she picked up the tawse and laid it across the very centre of Malfoy's now visibly trembling bottom, which still managed to be paler than his exceptionally pale legs. "Take a good grip, Malfoy. If you stay down I will limit it to six. If you stand up, you will get extra."

She brought the tawse back over her shoulder and slashed it down with what seemed to be all the force she could muster. Malfoy let out a shriek of sheer agony and stood up, his hands flying around to his buttocks.

"I warned you, Malfoy. That's one extra now. And it will be another two if you stand up again. Get over the desk, and get a proper grip. Right now. I am not in the mood for any delaying tactics. You deserve this belting, my boy, and you are going to get it."

Malfoy forced himself back across the desk and gripped the far side as hard as he could. The pain was indescribable and he could not imagine making it any worse. Professor McGonagall lined up the tawse again and slashed it down again. And again Malfoy shrieked but this time he managed to stay where was supposed to. Professor McGonagall drew back the tawse a third time and landed it right across the red mark forming across the middle of Malfoy's bottom cheeks. He screamed and was sobbing his eyes out now. In his chair, Neville realised that he was actually starting to feel a little – just a little – sorry for Malfoy. But only a very little. The fourth stroke was once again across the very centre of the boys backside and now Malfoy's sobbing was constant and didn't seem to get any worse with the impacts. The fifth stroke was lower down, and while he didn't stand, his feet left the floor and if he hadn't been bent across the desk he would have fallen. Professor McGonagall waited until he planted his feet on the ground again, and as soon as he had, slashed the tawse right across the place the previous stroke had fallen. Again the boys feet left the ground, but this time she didn't wait until he put them down again. She stepped forward just slight and lined the tawse up again, but this time at a slight angle so its far end was across the mark of the last two strokes and its middle would fall across the first four. She brought it back and swung it in with the same great force as the very first stroke he had give him and he screamed out at the impact.

"Pull your pants and trousers up and get your robe. Then the three of you, go straight to your common room and stay there."

Malfoy had tears streaming down his face as he stood up, and his hands clutched his bottom, completely unconcerned about any other part of his body being on display. But McGonagall didn't even glance in his direction, as she put the tawse back into the drawer and went to look out the window. Malfoy finally adjusted his clothing, pulled on his robe, and along with his fellow Slytherins slunk out of the office. Neville remained in the armchair waiting for Professor McGonagall to speak.

"Are you all right, Neville?"

"Yes, Professor."

She turned to face him. "I won't say you didn't deserve the caning, Longbottom. But you didn't deserve what was going on in the Trophy Room. Once somebody is punished, the matter should be completely over and I won't tolerate any student being made to suffer beyond their punishment. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Then you go to Gryffindor common room."

He stood up and walked to the door. "Thank you, Professor."

"Don't mention it. It's not worth mentioning."

He left her office and walked up the flights of stairs to Gryffindor tower. He felt different and for a moment he wondered why. And then it came to him. For the first time since he came to Hogwarts he wasn't afraid of who was waiting for him around the corner. He didn't care who saw him. And he didn't much care what they thought.

He gave the password and climbed through the potrait into the common room. Everyone in the house, it seemed was there surrounding Hermione Granger, and all were turning to look at him. And he still didn't care. Hermione was talking.

"... I don't really like the idea. But if Professor Dumbledore has decided the school needs this then that's good enough for me." She saw him and stopped talking. There was silence, quite a lot of silence, and then she spoke again. "Neville... we've been talking about – well, talking about this whole issue of corporal punishment. Maybe you have something to add?"

He looked at the entire house who seemed to be hanging on his every word. "Well... I suppose I'm in favour of it. People who do the wrong thing deserve to be punished."

He grinned. "Yeah. I think it's a good thing. Overall."


	3. Chapter 3

Neville was the first to be caned, while Malfoy and his minions were the first to feel the strap but over the next few days, more and more stories began to spread around the school of Hogwarts teachers talking about, or actually using, corporal punishment. It was clear to the Gryffindors that Hermione's analysis of the new situation - or perhaps it would be better to describe it as the return of an older situation - was generally accurate. All teachers had the power to use a strap or a cane or merely their own hand as an instrument of correction and there was a considerable exchange of information concerning what a particular teacher had used or had said they would use if misbehaviour occurred in their classes. It seemed that there was a lot more threatening of punishment than actual punishment going on.

Gryffindor and Slytherin's first potions class after Neville's caning was so ripe with tension that the air could have been cut with the silver bladed knives every student was using to carefully cut up their potion ingredients. Students were very careful with their scales as well, and particularly careful in following the instructions given and written on the board - everybody seemed to feel that if any teacher was likely to use the cane easily and readily it would be Professor Snape, and nobody wanted to give him any excuse to do so by producing a less than perfect Cooling Draft.

Towards the end of the lesson, Professor Snape roamed around the room looking carefully at what had been produced. He started with the Slytherins and everybody observing could see the tension leave a students body as Professor Snape passed their work in total silence. Finally, as if he had left them deliberately until last (as they were sure he had), he approached the cauldrons where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had been working and carefully looked over their work for errors. Hermione's was flawless and he barely gave it a glance. Harry and Ron both felt they'd done a decent job and felt extreme relief when Snape after carefully looking at their work for a moment, seemed to turn to Neville's reluctantly. He looked down at Neville's cauldron, and carefully ladled a small portion of the contents into a glass. He examined it very closely, looking for problems, and most of the class held their breath. Finally he sniffed the glass, and took the smallest possible sip.

"Passable, Longbottom. Perhaps something has finally made the correct impression on you with regards to your work."

He walked to the front of the classroom. "If a single caning can make such a significant difference to the performance of Longbottom, perhaps... yes, perhaps... we need to try a little experiment. I have been exceptionally unimpressed by the homework done in this class since the start of this year... by our next lesson, you will have all completed an essay of at least twelve inches in length on..." he paused, "the role of the Fumariaceae family in producing potions to inhibit keraritonous growth with particular regard to the palbeberal region. Anyone who does not hand in this work can expect to be the object of further experimentation in the next class. Be warned. I will accept no excuses."

He gestured with his wand and all the cauldrons emptied. "You may go."

The students left the room in silence, stunned silence. Had Snape really - if only, very lukewarmly, praised the work of Neville Longbottom? And had Snape really assigned what seemed to be the essay from hell with the promise of painful retribution from anybody who failed to deliver it?

"Hermione," said Ron as they walked up the stairs from the dungeon, "I think we're going to need your help with that essay."

"I can't do all your homework for you, Ron. You have the whole weekend, even you should be able to write a twelve inch essay in that length of time."

Harry looked over at her, "Sure - and the heading is probably a couple of inches by itself, but what does it mean?"

"The palbebrae are the eyelids, and keratin is in hair and fingernails, so but I don't know who the Fumariaceae's are

Neville spoke up from just behind them. "It's a what, not a who. It's in _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ - fumitore. It's a type of plant. It stops hair growing on the eyelids."

They stopped dead and looked at him. Hermione spoke.

"Why would hair be growing on your eyelids?"

Neville shrugged as he walked past them. "I can't do all your homework for you, Hermione." He seemed as happy as they'd ever seen him.

* * *

That evening after dinner, Hermione found her copy of _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and settled down to write her essay. Ron and Harry decided to sit down and play a game of Chess - doing homework due on Monday on Friday evening just didn't seem an appealing idea, even with the threat of dire retribution if it was not handed in.

As they played, Harry looked across the common room to where Neville was sitting at another table reading a large book about plants. He knew Neville was good at Herbology - the things that Neville was good at tended to stand out in your memory, because there really wasn't all that much that Neville was good at. He liked Neville, and he sometimes felt that there were hidden depths to the boy. But to see Neville apparently happy, to see Neville actually performing competently in front of Snape... that was odd. Very odd. Almost as odd as the idea of Hermione not doing homework as soon as she got it, or of Ron defecting from the Chudley Cannons to the Tutshill Tornadoes. He realised Hermione had paused in her work and was looking at him looking at Neville.

"Surprised, Harry?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's all right - I am as well. Neville's changed. Changed a lot over the last few days."

Ron nodded, as he pondered the board. "Yeah... he's got some confidence from somewhere. From something."

Hermione also nodded. "Yes. Funny, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Well - we all saw what happened. Neville was his normal nervous self in potions and he made a mess of what he was doing. And then he was caned. And since then... he's been different."

Ron looked up from the board. "You think being caned did that?"

"Perhaps."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Are you serious, Hermione?" asked Harry. "I mean - I know Neville seems really different and I know he was really happy about what happened to Malfoy, and Crabbe, and Goyle, too - but is that really going to make a major change in somebody's life?"

Hermione looked across the room at Neville. "Well, Harry - just think back to the holidays. Corporal punishment can be a powerful thing, can't it?"

Harry coughed and shook his head slightly. There were some things he didn't really want to discuss with anybody who didn't already know about them. Ron raised an eyebrow, "What are you two talking about?"

"Private joke," said Hermione. "Look, I really don't know what to think. I know what books say - Muggle books anyway. Modern opinion on raising children says that corporal punishment is a bad thing, and doesn't do any good, and can cause a lot of harm. But - well, look at Neville. Something's worked for him."

Ron gave a small laugh, "Well, if my parents are typical and I think they are, that's not an opinion that is very popular in the Wizarding world. My Mum and Dad both seem to believe that corporal punishment is a very good thing at times. I'm surprised that you two haven't found that out for yourselves, given you've spent so much time at the Burrow, but I guess Mum is just different when it's not her kids."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a very quick glance, which Ron didn't notice because he had turned his attention back to the board, and Harry said, "Well, maybe, it's just another one of those things that's very different between the Wizarding world and the Muggle one, hey, Hermione."

She gave a small smile - and both of them decided to change the subject. And Ron, for now, oblivious, let them.

* * *

The weekend passed as weekends do, with Hermione constantly reminding Harry and Ron that they had homework to do and both of them reminding her that that was what Sunday evening was for. And then Sunday dinner came, and as they walked towards the Great Hall, they realised a large number of students were examining a notice that had been placed on the wall, and were talking about it with some animation.

"But this is our time!" "I've got homework to do." "This is unfair!" "It must be Nargle-related." They pushed themselves forward to read the notice.

"_Immediately after Dinner this evening, all students are to report to the following staff members for a special meeting:_  
_First Year Boys: Professor Hagrid_  
_First Year Girls: Professor Burbage_  
_Second Year Boys: Professor Moody_  
_Second Year Girls: Professor Sprout_  
_Third Year Boys: Professor Flitwick_  
_Third Year Girls: Professor Trelawney_  
_Fourth Year Boys: Professor Snape_  
_Fourth Year Girls: Professor McGonagall_  
_Fifth Year Boys: Professor Binns_  
_Fifth Year Girls: Professor Vector_  
_Sixth Year Boys: Professor Dumbledore_  
_Sixth Year Girls: Professor Babbling_  
_Seventh Year Boys & Girls: Madam Pomfrey_"

Harry and Ron looked at each other in concern, "That's when we were going to do our homework."

Hermione looked at them with a very smug look on her face, "Well, you'd better hope it isn't a very long meeting then, hadn't you?"

All through dinner, there was a lot of discussion about why these meetings had been called, but nobody seemed to have any idea what they might be about. Even the seventh year students could never recall such a series of meetings in their time at the school, and when dinner was over, it was with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation that Harry and Ron found themselves heading downstairs to the dungeons, while Hermione made her way upstairs to the Transfiguration room.

* * *

Snape's dungeon classroom was no more crowded than during a normal class. There were normally all the students of a particular year from two houses at once in here during a lesson and just the boys from the fourth year for all four houses came to the same number. There was momentary confusion as students tried to sit where they normally sat, only to find students from the other potions class already there, but they sorted themselves out. The case containing Snape's cane lay on his desk and he looked very... nervous... yes, he looked quite nervous. This was odd.

* * *

In the Transfiguration classroom, Hermione took a seat next to Lavender Brown - the same issue of people's familiar seats being occupied was happening up there. Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the room with a rather stern expression of her face. She cast her eyes around the room, obviously counting, and when she was satisfied that everybody who was meant to be there was, she pointed her wand at the door which shut and locked itself with an audible click - the only noise in a silent room.

* * *

In both rooms, at almost exactly the same time, the teacher turned around to a blackboard and wrote across the top in large bold letters.

**MANUSTUPRATION**


	4. Chapter 4

Professor McGonagall turned around and faced the classroom full of girls. There was absolute silence in the room and the air was thick with tension. "Could anybody define the word on the blackboard for me?"

The silence continued.

"Come now, girls. Everybody in this room is female. This is a matter that needs to be discussed. It would be better and easier if it is discussed without embarrassment. What does the word mean?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Miss Granger?"

"Manustupration – it comes from the Latin, _manus stupare_. It means to defile with the hand."

"That is its etymology. What does it mean?" Professor McGonagall was staring at Hermione, almost staring through her.

"It means the same as masturbation."

"That is a synonym, Miss Granger. And one mostly used by Muggles. I want a definition."

"Well – it means rubbing your private parts." Hermione blushed.

"Yes, that is the knub of it. Manustupration involves using the hand or some object to touch the reproductive organs or the area around them. A large number of people – probably most people – do it from time to time, because people find it pleasurable. But it's a practice that can lead to serious problems and that's the reason we are talking about it today."

* * *

Professor Snape turned around and faced the classroom full of boys. There'd been a moment of brief laughter from a couple of places in the room as he'd finished writing the word, but it was entirely quelled as he swept his eyes across the room looking for its source. He seemed nervous and that was infectious. As he looked at the boys in the room, those who came under his gaze found themselves feeling nervous as well.

"Who can tell me what this word means?"

Dead silence.

"Is this entire year so ignorant that none of you know what the word means? I can understand, perhaps, that those of you who are from Muggle families may not have encountered the word – although I also understand that most of you are probably far more familiar with the concept than you should be… Anyone?"

Nobody dared raise their hand.

"Malfoy. I know you will have been taught what this is, and also why it is something that no true Wizard should engage in. Please, tell us, what you have been taught."

Draco looked a bit surprised to have been singled out. "Well, Sir. Manustupration is defilement. Defilement with the hand. Abuse of your own self."

"Can anyone in this room tell me what Muggles call it? Finch-Fletchley, would you care to share your answer with the rest of us? Stand up."

Justin Finch-Fletchley stood up. "Masturbation, Sir."

"Yes – although I do not think that is the word that you just whispered to Boot. I'll see you at the end of this class. Masturbation – a common term used in the Muggle world, it seems. And it's acceptable. Clinical. Correct. Finch-Fletchley – can you tell me what you know about it?"

"Um… well. When boys do it, they rub their… penises. Until they, um, well, until they… ejaculate."

"Such clinical language. Good. Why do they do it?"

"Because it feels good."

Professor Snape nodded. "And what have you been taught about its dangers?"

"Dangers, Sir… I'm not sure what you mean."

* * *

"Miss Granger. Would you please tell the class what Muggle children are told about manustupration, or if you prefer, masturbation."

"You mean, about what it does to you?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Well, they are told that it's harmless. That it's a normal part of growing up. That lots of people do it. And it's normal and doesn't do any harm."

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall looked around at the girls. "That is the reason we are having this special class. Some of you are from Muggle families and it has recently come to our attention that this is what Muggle children are being taught. And it probably doesn't do them any harm, because they are Muggles and for Muggles, it's hard to see how manustupration could do any harm. But it's different for wizards and it's different for witches. For us, this is a practice that can do a great deal of harm and you need to know that."

"Now I am not going to ask any of you whether or not you have engaged in manustupration. I don't see any reason to embarrass anybody by asking."

* * *

"So, Finch-Fletchley. You're not sure what I mean by manustupration being dangerous?"

"No, Sir."

"You haven't been taught that it is dangerous?"

"No, Sir."

"What have you been taught about it?"

"That's it's normal. That it's safe. That nearly everybody does it."

"Do you?"

"Sir?" Justin looked very surprised at the question.

"It's a simple question, Finch-Fletchley. You've been taught it is normal. You have been taught that it is safe. And you have been taught that nearly everybody does it. It seems to me that we all know what your answer to the question is likely to be."

"I don't think I should answer that question, Sir. It's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is, Finch-Fletchley. Very much our business."

Professor Snape swept his eyes across the classroom. "It is our job to make sure you all leave Hogwarts – all of you – as competent and powerful as wizards as it is possible for you to be. To that end, if any of you are engaged in activities that will make you less powerful, it is most definitely our business to see that those activities cease."

* * *

"Magical power is complex. Precisely where it comes from is still not absolutely understood. But we do know that it is tied up with the vital force of the human body. And we know there are certain things that release that force, that diminish it. And one of these is an experience that is generally referred to as the paroxysm. Muggles, I believe, refer to it as orgasm. It is something that should be the climax of the sexual union between two people. It has been described as the only moment in which even Muggles can feel the true power of magic, which perhaps indicates just how powerful the release of energy is at that moment.

"It is powerful, girls. And pleasurable too. But there is a time and a place for it. And that time and place is with a person that you love, a person that you have married. It is not something to be sacrificed casually, whether by yourself or with another person."

"Some of you are Muggleborn and there is, of course, nothing wrong with that. But it may be that your Muggle parents have, with the best possible intentions, with their knowledge of what is and isn't true in the Muggle world, have given you information and guidance about these matters that is wrong for a young witch to have. You are here at Hogwarts to learn. You are here at Hogwarts to learn how to be the best you can be at magic. While you are at this school, we are responsible for you, and we will do our best to make sure you don't do yourselves any harm. And if you do, we'll fix it."

* * *

"Sit down, Finch-Fletchley. And all of you who are smirking, stop it right now. Or I'll make you stand up and I'll ask you the same question."

Professor Snape began to pace at the front of the room. His early nervousness seemed to have gone.

"Most of you in this classroom, if not all of you, will have engaged in manustupration. It requires a great deal of self-discipline to refrain from such activities, and I know very well that very few of you have yet mastered that particular virtue in any great quantity. Every time you do it, you cost yourself a small measure of your magical powers. But that fact alone is not enough to stop most of you. Perhaps until now, some of you had the excuse of ignorance. But you no longer have that excuse, so let me make things very clear to you. From now on, you must do your best to develop the self discipline needed to protect your powers, or the adults in this school will ensure that such protection is achieved by imposed discipline.

He walked over to his desk and he gestured to the case containing his cane. "Those of you with Wizards as parents are probably aware of the traditional way of discouraging manustupration, whether your parents have used it or not. Consider if a moment of fleeting pleasure is worth the pain associated with particular responses, even if the fear of losing your magic is not sufficient deterrent to see you exercising self control.

"And if any of you have any thoughts or ideas about trying any of the other… traditional methods of trying to deal with these issues, understand that they are not acceptable at your age, or in this school.

"Now – does anybody have any questions?"

* * *

"There are a number of different theories and ideas as to how this type of problem should be addressed. The teachers have discussed them in detail over the last week or so, and have decided on the approach we should take. It is the method that most of us believe is most likely to be effective. It is in line with recent changes made in the school. It has been decided that manustupration will be treated as something that needs to be punished if it is detected.

"Girls, I don't want to frighten you. Many of you will have done this, both Muggleborns and others. If it's only happened occasionally, you won't have done yourself any real harm, and you are young enough that even if it wasn't occasional, and you stop now, it's unlikely to have hurt you. But it's not something that most people find that can do occasionally and control and so that type of approach can't be accepted.

"Now – does anybody have any questions?"

* * *

"No questions. I suppose I must be an excellent teacher. But I know something that makes me even better. Finch-Fletchley, come up here, please."

Justin stood up and walked up to the front of the room, as Professor Snape opened the case on his desk and drew out his cane.

"You know better than to whisper to other people in my class. Bend over, Finch-Fletchley, and touch your toes."

Justin took a breath and did as he was told. Professor Snape reached down and lifted the back of his robes and folded them across his back, and then lined the cane up across Justin's bottom, right across the centre of the seat of his trousers. He drew the cane back and slashed it down, with a sharp, almost explosive crack. Justin showed no sign of real reaction. Snape lifted the cane again and brought it down again with a second crack and this time, Justin let out a heavy gasp of pain.

"That will do, Finch-Fletchley." As the boy stood up, Snape said, in a very measured tone. "All of you, that is what is expected. When you earn a punishment, accept it, do not argue. Co-operate. You can go. And remember your homework, all of you – I meant what I said in the last class."

* * *

Lavender Brown raised her hand, tentatively.

"Yes, Miss Brown."

"Professor… you said that the paroxysm is something that should be experienced between two people. When that happens, does that mean that there's no problem?"

"Well – there's no loss of power if both those people are wizards or witches. But that doesn't mean there are no problems. There are quite a few problems with the idea, and if any of you are contemplating…"

"I'm just asking, Professor. I'm not saying that I think anybody should do anything."

"Well – certain things are not appropriate at school. They are not appropriate for underage wizards and witches. As adults, when you are married, things will be different – in that situation, such things are very appropriate. Until then, while they might not harm your magical ability, you are not ready for them, and, I should also make it clear, that this is something else that would be punished.

"Girls… there are plenty of boys who may try to take advantage of this situation and claim a mutual benefit might attach to particular activities. I am confident all of you are intelligent enough not to be persuaded by such transparent tactics. Now, if there are no more questions, you can go."

* * *

When Harry and Ron arrived at Gryffindor tower, along with Seamus, Dean, and Neville, they saw that the girls had already arrived. They'd been delayed by talking to Justin about what had happened and commiserating with him. But the Hufflepuff boy had taken it in his stride, claiming that it was no worse than canings he'd received at the prep school he'd attended before coming to Hogwarts. It hurt, but he could take it.

Students from various years had formed into small groups and were talking. Some about what had just happened, some deliberately about other things.

Hermione was sitting alone in a corner looking pensive. Ron began to head over towards her, but Harry put his hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Ron, do you mind if I talk to Hermione for a minute? Alone?"

"What about?"

"It's a bit – look, Ron, she's Muggleborn, and I grew up with Muggles."

"Oh – and what you've just been told was new to you?"

"Sort of. Look, I just want to talk to her. Okay?"

Ron looked a bit puzzled. "All right. I'll go up and get our books. You see if she'll help us with our homework. We'd better get it done."

Harry went over to the corner when Hermione was sitting as Ron headed upstairs. Hermione looked up at him with a half smile.

"Do you think we caused that, Harry?"

He sat down. "I don't know. But it seems like a pretty big coincidence. Mrs Weasley catches me…"

"Yes. And then I talked to her…"

"And now Hogwarts thinks this is something all Muggleborns need to know."

"Well, I suppose it is. But it's all a bit embarrassing."

"It shouldn't be, Harry. Not really. It's just how the human body works. I suppose it's a bit unfortunate that it works the way it does, but…"

"You're honestly not embarrassed by this?"

"I'm trying not to be. You're the one who told me to be clever about it, Harry. To treat it just as facts. Well, I am. The human body is a natural thing. It works the way it works. We shouldn't be embarrassed by it."

Ron was approaching, so Harry changed the subject. "So Hermione, Snape made it pretty clear, again, that he'd be caning anybody who didn't hand in their homework tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure you don't want that to happen, so how about you help us with it?"

"Honestly. I told the two of you to do it on Friday. I really should let you get caned. It might do you some good."

Ron sat down. "But you won't. Besides… I'm sure we could get twelve inches done by tomorrow, it would just be twelve inches of really bad work, and we wouldn't learn anything from it, and wouldn't it be better if you helped us, and we learned something, instead of just doing our homework so we don't get in trouble. I mean, you do want us to learn, don't you, Hermione."

She looked at him. "Oh – open up _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_, quickly. Before I change my mind."

* * *

The following day, when they arrived at class, all three of them placed their rolled up homework on Snape's desk, along with everybody else. They went to their cauldrons and they gave their attention to the lesson. Nobody wanted to be made an example of. Nobody wanted to be the subject of more of Professor Snape's experimentation. The lesson followed on from their homework – they had to create a potion designed to control accelerated hair growth caused by different things and both Ron and Harry found themselves rather grateful that Hermione had insisted they learn what she was helping them write as the work would have been very difficult indeed if they'd simply rushed their homework.

Professor Snape seemed disappointed by the fact that they were doing so well. Everybody seemed to be, even Neville. They really did have the impression that he was looking for somebody to punish, and nobody wanted to give him the excuse to make them the target of his cane. Eventually, realising that he had a class of apparently hard working, diligent, and silent pupils, he went to his desk and began to sort through the homework.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up, "Yes, Professor Snape?"

"Where is your homework?"

"It's on your desk, Sir."

Professor Snape sorted through the pile of parchment again.

"Miss Granger. I can't see your homework here."

"But I put it there."

Everybody in the class looked up.

"Get on with your work." Professor Snape sorted through the piles of parchment a third time.

"It is not here, Miss Granger."

"But I did hand it up, Sir."

"Check your bag."

Hermione looked through her bag. Once, and then more frantically, a second time.

"It's not here, Sir!"

"And it is not on my desk."

The class were all looking up again. Hermione Granger – and no homework. There had to be a mistake.

"But, Sir…"

"Come and check for yourself. Perhaps you can find it." Professor Snape's voice was cool.

Hermione went up to the desk and went through every piece of parchment on the desk one by one. It didn't take that long, and when she had finished, she stood there looking very nervous.

"It's not here, Sir."

"No. It is not." Professor Snape stood up, and walked around to the front of his desk. He reached down to the long thin green leather case and undid the two silver clasps. Everyone in the class watched in open mouthed silence.

Hermione said in a very quiet voice into the quiet classroom. "You can't."

"I most certainly can, Miss Granger."

"But I did my homework."

"Then where is it?"

"I don't know. It must be lost."

"Lost. I see." He drew out the long, thin, rattan cane. "Bend over and touch your toes."

"But, Sir…"

"Miss Granger. Did I not, at the end of the last class, when I gave this homework, make it clear that I would accept no excuses if it was not handed in?"

"Yes, Sir, but –"

"Then I will accept no excuses. Bend over and touch your toes, or the punishment will be worse."

"But I did the homework."

"There is no evidence of that. And I warned you, you are just making it worse for yourself. Bend over now."

"I did it, I swear, I did it." Hermione sounded on the verge of panic.

"I do not care what you swear. It is a fact that the homework is not here and I will accept no excuse."

"But this is unfair!"

"Miss Granger." Snape looked down at her with an almost blank expression on his face. "When I had cause to cane Longbottom, you were very quick indeed to remind me of the rules. You are aware of them?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What is Rule Eleven?"

"Any student who refuses to accept physical chastisement is liable to expulsion from the school"

"Word for word, Miss Granger. Bend over, now."

"But…"

"This is your last chance before I send you to see Professor Dumbledore and see you expelled…" Harry began to rise in his seat. So did Ron next to him, and they could tell that a lot of Gryffindor were not pleased about what was happening (though the Slytherins seemed to be enjoying it. "… and your friends as well, if they are as foolish as they seem. Miss Granger. You know the rules. Am I breaking any? Is there any reason I cannot punish you? Am I exceeding my authority?"

Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron, and shook her head slightly. "No, Sir."

"Then bend over and touch your toes."

She looked at Ron and Harry both ready to jump to her defence. And she seemed to make a decision. She bent forward, all the way forward and touched her fingers to her toes. Harry and Ron sank back into their seat. Why… they were never sure, except they knew she'd made a decision and they felt the need to accept it.

Professor Snape lifted the back of Hermione's robe, and bunched it up and folded it across her back, higher than he had done with either Neville or Justin. He spoke.

"I had planned to give anybody who failed in their homework, four strokes of the cane. Miss Granger, however, did not obey my instructions. Miss Granger knows the rules. Rule One is _Class teachers and certain other authorised staff may use a reasonable level of physical chastisement to discipline students._ I have the right to cane you if I believe you deserve it. So four strokes become six. You continued to argue…" He reached down and grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it up and folded it across her lower back, "and so now I will exercise my rights under Rule Six - _The Headmaster, the Deputy Headmaster, and Heads of Houses may administer such punishment across the underwear-clad_… and as you continued to argue I will go to its limit." He reached into the waist band of her pale yellow knickers and tugged them down, "_or bare buttocks of students at their discretion._ I will not be argued with."

Hermione gave a quiet shudder, as she realised she was on display to the class. She pressed her legs together, in an effort to hide as much as she could from display. And Snape almost seemed to help her, but putting his hand on her lower back and helping her turn so her bottom was facing directly towards the class. It was still embarrassing, humiliating, but at least now she felt like all that could be seen was a portion of her anatomy that everybody in the classroom had, rather than only half of it.

Professor Snape walked behind her, and took up position just behind her to her left. He swished the cane through the air a couple of times. And then he laid it right across the centre of her pale bottom. Everybody in the class was focused on the sight. Some finding it even more interesting than others.

Professor Snape drew back the cane and with a swift, slashing motion, lashed it down right across the centre of Hermione's bottom. For a moment, she felt nothing, and then there was a flood of absolute burning agony flowing through her buttocks. Her only previous experience of corporal punishment – her spanking at the hands of Mrs Weasley – had not, in any way, prepared her for this.

To the watchers, where the cane had fallen, a white line appeared right across her bottom as Professor Snape lifted the cane away. And then the line turned an angry reddish colour, as he slashed the cane down again.

The pain this time was instant and even worse than it had been from the first stroke. Hermione felt tears flowing into her eyes and she closed them to try and hold the tears in. To the watchers, there were now two angry red lines right across her bottom, one just above the other.

The third stroke was even worse, if such a thing was possible. The pain just kept building and she heard herself give a strangled little cry. Her eyes were stinging now and she knew she'd never be able to hold in the tears, but she tried to anyway. Snape could cane her. He had the right. But she could do her best to deny him any satisfaction he might get out of knowing he'd hurt her. To the watchers the third line seemed less vivid, but that was because for them the shock of what they were seeing was just beginning to ebb just a little. In only three strokes, the unprecedented had started to become familiar.

With the fourth stroke, her eyes came open and tears dripped from them, but that release made the pain easier to take somehow. Reacting made it easier. Perhaps it would be better if she gave in to the feelings she had and let them out. But somehow that felt like it would be letting Snape win. And she was not going to let Snape win. And to the watchers, the straightening of her legs was noticeable.

With the fifth stroke, she almost screamed, but she choked back the sound in her throat. She was a Gryffindor and she would not give Slytherin the satisfaction of seeing how much she was hurting. But, oh, she was hurting. The pain was incredible and getting worse with each stroke, but she knew the limit was six. She knew the rules. Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall had the power to authorise more than six strokes for her, but Professor Snape did not. He wasn't her Head of House. And the watchers realised she was going to endure it all.

The sixth stroke came and she knew that anymore would break her. But that didn't matter, because she knew no more would come. She'd made it through and though she was hurting, and hurting more than she had ever imagined she could, she now knew better than ever that she could take whatever she had to take. Her bottom was lined – she knew it, and the watchers knew it, because they could see it, they could see it blazing red against the white.

"Stand up, Miss Granger, and fix your clothes."

She did as she was told to. Whatever triumph she felt, she knew she really did have to obey Snape and nothing was gained by not doing so. He looked at her.

"You may leave, Miss Granger. You are excused from the rest of this lesson."

She walked past the class to the back of the room, and out the door. And Professor Snape returned his cane to his case. He turned around to face the class.

"My rules apply to everyone. And I will not be argued with. When I decide a student should be punished, that student will be punished. Whoever they are." His eyes seemed to dwell for a moment on the Slytherins in the front row, closest to his desk.

* * *

As soon as Hermione had left the classroom, as soon as she rounded the corner so nobody in her class could have seen her, she began to run. To run and to weep, to sob, to cry her heart out. Her bottom hurt. There was no sense in denying it. She was in pain. She'd been punished and she didn't deserve most of the punishment – all right, she shouldn't have argued, the rules were on Professor Snape's side, but she'd done the homework, she'd handed it in. She ran up the stairs, she barely knew where she was going, all she knew was that she needed to get as far away from the dungeon's as possible. She ran almost blindly.

Around a corner and into somebody. A teacher. Professor Burbage.

Professor Burbage looked shocked. "Miss Granger, why aren't you in… Hermione, what is wrong?" Hermione looked at the Muggle Studies teacher. Even though she dropped the subject, she liked Professor Burbage, she'd seemed kind and calm and pleasant all through the previous year. Hermione tried to speak, but all that came out were sobs.

"Come with me." Professor Burbage lead her to the Muggle Studies classroom. She opened the door, lead Hermione inside and close the door and locked it. She lead Hermione to a seat at the front of the room, and noticed – noted – how gingerly the girl sat down in it. She went over to her cupboard of Muggle supplies and from a bottle poured a large measure of an orange liquid into a glass. She then took another seat and pulled it up and sat down next to Hermione and handed her the glass.

"Drink this, I find it's good for shock."

"What is it-t, some sort of p-potion?"

"No, it's Lucozade. Now drink up."

Hermione took a sip, then a gulp, and then emptied the glass. And seemed a lot more composed, though the tears didn't stop.

"Now what happened, Hermione?"

"Professor Snape gave me the cane."

"I see." Professor Burbage sighed. "I can't imagine you did, but did you deserve it?"

"Not really. It was for not doing my homework. And I'd done it, but it disappeared. At least that's how it started. I argued with him and that made it worse."

"Oh dear." Professor Burbage sighed again. "Well, it sounds like you've had a very bad day."

"Yes."

"How many strokes did you get?"

"Six."

"Ouch."

"And it was even worse."

"Worse?"

"He caned me on my bare bottom." Hermione began to sob again, just for a moment, before she pulled herself together. "Sorry, Professor."

"It's all right, Hermione. Cry if you want to."

"No, I don't want to. But it was so embarrassing, so humiliating, the whole class was there."

Professor Burbage stood up and walked back to her cupboard. "Do you want another Lucozade? Or I have Ribena. I have Coca-Cola. Some of those Muggle drinks are pretty marvellous, just as much kick as Butterbeer, but no alcohol whatsoever."

"Oh, please, Professor. No more Muggle stuff. I don't want any Muggle stuff right now."

"Why not?"

"Because I feel like…" Hermione became silent.

"Hermione, please finish that sentence."

"Sometimes… not often, but sometimes, I wish I was a Muggle…"

Professor Burbage came back to where Hermione was sitting.

"Hermione… I think I understand how you feel."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. Hermione, I'm Muggleborn, just like you. I know how hard it can be sometimes. You're torn between two worlds."

"Yes…"

"But you seem to fit in so well here, Hermione. You're the top student in your year. You have good friends who aren't Muggleborns, so you don't seem to be isolated here at school. So what has brought this on?"

"Lots of things." Hermione's eyes drifted to the blackboard. There obviously hadn't been a Muggle Studies class yet today as the blackboard hadn't been erased after the lessons of the previous night. The word 'Manustupration' was still written across it. Professor Burbage saw her looking.

"Does that have an effect?"

"What?!?"

"Well, Hermione, you are 14 years old. I remember being 14. Quite well, actually. And being 14 and being Muggleborn and having some… different ideas from other students."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Well. Not really. I mean, it just reminds me how different things can be. If I was just a Muggle. I wouldn't have to worry about that at all. There's so many things that are different, and sometimes they all seem too much. I mean if I was at a Muggle school, it's pretty unlikely I'd be at a school where they used the cane. And even if they did, there's no chance I'd have had my knickers pulled down in front of a room full of boys. I mean, it was so… Oh, I don't know."

Professor Burbage opened a Butterbeer for Hermione, and a can of Coke for herself. "Hermione – forget about what happened to you today in class. What do you think of the cane in general?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well – do you think it should be used? As a punishment, I mean."

Hermione looked at her. "Yes… you know I really do. It was pretty awful at primary school, you know. I wanted to learn and so many of the other children just misbehaved. They didn't seem to care about rules. I think they're important. But I didn't deserve it."

"No, I believe you. But, Hermione, injustices can happen in any school. Hogwarts is no exception. Look… I've taught in Muggle schools, you know, and whatever else you might have to say about Hogwarts – and I've said a lot of it at times – this is a school where being clever is a real advantage. Where they expect you to excel. Where they expect you to do well. There's not that many schools like that out there in the Muggle world, Hermione, and maybe you would have been lucky and gone to one, but maybe you've been lucky to come here."

Hermione gave a little smile. "I don't feel that lucky at the moment. My bottom hurts. And so does my pride."

"Well, there's not a lot I can do about your bottom. The cane is meant to hurt. But maybe I can do a little bit about your pride. Why was your pride hurt?"

"Well… because it was so embarrassing. Everybody saw my bottom. And, they might have even seen more. It's so different, Professor. That never would have happened in a Muggle school."

"No, you're probably right – not in most Muggle schools anyway. But you know, Hermione, this actually points to a rather interesting little phenomenon. Yet another difference between the Muggle world and the Wizarding one."

"What's that?"

"Well, in simple terms, Wizards, historically, have been a lot less concerned about clothing than Muggles."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"I'm serious, Hermione. When I was a student here… well… let's just say that things were a bit different. Even now – you should see the Prefect's bathroom. One great big bath to be used by any Prefect at any time, regardless of who else is in there. Or ask Harry about the Quidditch change rooms or the showers down there."

"You're joking… aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. Things have changed a bit over the last few decades. Professor Dumbledore changed most of them. He wanted to make the school more inviting to Muggles and this is one of the things that changed – it really concerned some Muggle parents. The point is, Hermione – to a lot of the people in your class, especially to those from Wizarding families, what they saw today was nothing particularly special or unusual."

"You are serious. This isn't a joke?"

"It's no joke, Hermione. Oh, Hogwarts has changed. I'm sure some of the boys got a thrill. But not as much as you fear. And… well, to be frank, with the return of the old approach to discipline, while you might have been one of the first, you certainly won't be the last. Now," Professor Burbage looked at the clock. "Classes will be changing in a moment and I need to be ready. And I'm sure you have a class to get to – although if you want, I'll write you a note so you can go to the Hospital Wing."

"I can't hide there forever."

"No. You can't. Good girl."

"Thank you, Professor. Somehow you always seem to know the right thing to say."

* * *

Hermione held her head up high in Arithmancy. And nobody there commented on what had happened during potions class. But she knew the story would spread around the school – all reports of canings and strappings were doing so at the moment and she felt she had to do her best to maintain her dignity whether people spoke to her or not.

* * *

"Professor Snape."

"Ah, Professor Burbage. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Professor Burbage closed the door of the potions classroom as soon as the last straggling fifth year had left. She walked through the room to Professor Snape's desk.

"I want to talk to you about Hermione Granger, Severus."

"I see. Let's go to my office."

When they were there, Snape sat behind his desk and Charity sat in front of it. Snape raised an eyebrow?

"Well, Charity?"

"Why did you cane Hermione Granger?"

"Straight to the point as usual, Charity."

"You have to know that she didn't deserve it."

"I said homework had to be handed in. Hers was not. I did what –"

"Oh, come on, Severus. This is Hermione Granger, we are talking about. Do you honestly believe she hadn't done her homework?"

"Of course she'd done it."

"So why did you cane her?"

"Because I said no excuses would be accepted, Charity. I made it absolutely clear to the class that if homework was not there I would cane the student whose homework was not there."

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Can't you ever show any kind of flexibility?"

"No. I can not," Snape snapped. "Why is it so hard for you to understand this, Charity? I have my duty. I have my job to do. And I can't do it properly unless… well, unless I do it the way I do it. I know Hermione Granger handed in her homework today. I'm certain of it. But it wasn't there on my desk. And I had to deal with the situation as it was, not the situation that I'd like."

"Couldn't you have ignored the fact it was missing? I mean, it had just got lost."

"Charity. It wasn't lost. Somebody took it. There was at least one student in that class who knew Hermione Granger's homework wasn't on my desk. Because they had taken it. And if I hadn't done what I did, by now everybody in the class would believed Hermione Granger was some sort of special case."

"And you can't have that."

"No, I cannot. I cannot afford to be seen as a Muggleborn sympathiser. Not for a moment. Not in a class which contains Draco Malfoy."

"Well, I'm sure nobody will ever think that. But it's a pity you have to sacrifice a student like Hermione Granger to try to impress a boy like Draco Malfoy."

"Sacrifice… Charity, if need be, I'll sacrifice anybody I need to to do my duty. But what I did to Miss Granger today – it is to her benefit as well. She's brilliant, we all know that. And if she, for one moment, feels that her brilliance is some sort of way of getting special treatment, it won't help her at all. No… I wish I hadn't had to do that today. I really do. She did not deserve it. But in the long run, it's the pain, it's the suffering, it's the unfairness, that makes us stronger."

"You can't believe that…"

"You're a good enough Legilimens to know that I do."

Charity looked at Snape with sudden compassion in her face. "Oh, Severus…"

"No. Charity. I don't want your sympathy. I don't deserve it. I hurt Miss Granger. I know I did. I wish I hadn't. But I'm not sorry. I did what I had to do. I played the hand I was dealt."

"And so she just has to suffer."

"Yes. But she's not the only one. I intend to find out who stole that homework and when I do they will suffer far more than Miss Granger."

"You gave her six of the best on her bare bottom, Severus. You can't do any more than that."

"Oh, but I can. I'm not limited to six when it comes to somebody in my own house. And I'm sure whoever did it was in Slytherin."

* * *

That night, in the fourth year boy's dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, Ron Weasley found himself unable to get to sleep. He just kept thinking of the same thing, over and over, and over again.

Hermione's backside.

Wow.

He'd seen girl's backsides before. His sister's obviously, but not just hers. Cousins. Other relatives. Even a few he wasn't related to over the years. But Hermione's was – well, it was nice. At least it had been before Snape had put those lines all over it. Although… even those…

Oh, bloody hell. He did his best, he really did, and what they'd been told last night, it was nothing new to him, his father, and his mother too, had told him all about the dangers associated with manustupration and he really really tried not to do it, but sometimes just occasionally, less than once a month… it couldn't really do any harm could it. Percy had done it far more – his mother had had to take drastic steps with Percy – and he'd wound up with an obscene number of N.E.W.T.S. Just this once, it couldn't do any harm. And if he didn't do it, he'd never get to sleep. And that wouldn't do his studies any good. Under the cover, he pulled his pyjama trousers down and took hold of himself and began to do what he knew he really shouldn't, but what he really wanted to do. He was quiet. Four other boys in the room. He was quick. And then he had the moment of pleasure, and suddenly the room was ablaze in light, and a chime sounded.

"Wassat." From his bed, Harry sat up looking very groggy. Neville, Seamus, and Dean were doing the same. "What is that bell. What is all the light?" They looked at each other in some confusion. This has never happened before. It was new.

Harry climbed out of bed. Ron was about to do the same, but realised his pyjama trousers were still down around his knees and there was also some… evidence of what he'd just been doing and, well, he couldn't just get out of bed. The other boys would see and that would be a bit embarrassing. But a moment later the door opened and he realised there were far more embarrassing possibilities than the other boys seeing what had happened. Professor McGonagall, dressed in her tartan dressing gown stepped into the room.

"Good evening, Boys." She cast her eyes around the room. "All right. Let's do this as easily as possible. Which one of you was it?"

The boys looked at each other in confusion, Ron trying to do the same.

"Honestly… I really would have expected you boys to have a little more self control. But if you can't control yourselves, I will take control. Now, who is it?"

Again, puzzled looks.

"Right. All of you. Out of bed. Line up. I don't want to have to punish all of you, but if I have to."

"Oh bloody hell." Ron spoke. "It's me, Professor."

"Out of bed, Weasley."

"Can you just turn around for a minute, Professor."

"No."

Ron reached under the covers to adjust his clothing.

"Keep your hands where I can see them and get out of bed, right now."

He decided nothing could make it worse. He pushed back the covers and shuffled out of bed. His trousers, fell around his ankles. He could see the leather strap in Professor McGonagall's hand and he resigned himself to the inevitable.

"Do I need to bend over? Can I pull my trousers up?"

"That will not be necessary, Weasley. For this particular offence, I think it's best to punish the part of the body most involved in the transgression."

"WHAT!" Ron felt himself on the verge of total panic.

"Your hands, Weasley. Hold out both your hands please. The right hand under the left. Palms up."

The strap was laid across his hand. It was drawn back and then slammed down catching his fingers, palm and the bottom of his wrist all at once. His hand went numb and was somehow incredibly painful all at the same time.

"Swap your hands."

He slowly did as he was told. And Professor McGonagall strapped him in exactly the same way.

"I think that will do this time. But if I catch anybody doing this again, I will not be as lenient. Now pull your trousers up and get to bed. And all of you get to sleep."


End file.
